


To Conquer Her; To Claim Him

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marriage Law Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: What will Hermione Granger do to escape the Marriage Law? What will Draco Malfoy do to get the girl of his dreams? Whatever it takes.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> To Conquer Her (and To Claim Him), here, on AO3! ...This story is/was posted elsewhere, and I have sort of written myself in a corner. Well, as I post here, I'm going to be feeding the muse to hopefully close out the story. I'm also going to be reading it for... well, amateur mistakes, so it's not exactly what you might have read before.
> 
> This is my answer to the Marriage Law, and a few other beloved-but-insidious tropes around the fandom. I hope you enjoy it!

> _Draco,_
> 
> _As expected, everything has been completed as designed.  It will be announced in the morning paper.  Be sure I do not regret this._
> 
> _Your Father_

 

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy looked down at the parchment his father's owl had just delivered and smiled smugly to himself.  The Marriage Law had passed, and with it would be a new era.  Of course, with Malfoy influence in the mix, it had been amended exactly as Draco had desired: Hermione Granger would be his bride by the end of the week.

It had been amusing to watch her research in the library stacks as she fought to keep the law from passing.  She had done a good job of it, too.  However, Draco knew that little would stop his father when he was truly determined, and Draco had made sure that his father would deliver Granger to his side.

Draco and many of his friends were secretly relieved and excited by the Marriage Law.  With but a few exceptions, they did not want to go through with the arranged marriages their families had aligned.  This would be their chance to take the witches they really wanted.  Draco was pleased to know he would not have to marry Astoria Greengrass, since he found her voice and personality to be extremely grating in every dynamic.

Instead, Draco would get Granger: she was the best, and Malfoys always got what was best.  She was an oasis in the desert.  Draco had always known, even within their first days at Hogwarts, that she was without rival.  It was clear from the very first time she'd outdone him in class.  It was Charms.  She got 15 points for Gryffindor.  Her face had lit up with joy and excitement and pride.  She had been glorious.  He had been watching Hermione ever since.

Draco had sneered at her, and said something unpleasant in the hall after class.  When she turned her attention to him, Draco felt like everything in his world was right, even if she had been scowling at him.  Draco had been looking forward to singling her out even further when Potty and the Weasel had swept in.  He hated how they tried to protect her and how she would smile at them.  Draco wouldn't let them stand in his way, though.  Always, he could find a way to distract her from them.

Hermione Granger may be a Mudblood, but she was his Mudblood.  He had made sure that everyone in Slytherin knew she was not to be touched unless he said so.  In the early years, Draco used his influence to keep people away from her.  He wasn't a Malfoy for nothing.  Then after fourth year, the year of the Yule Ball, when Hermione had shown just what beautiful mettle she was made of, Draco had been forced to put a little pressure on his friends to keep them away.  Of course, with the rise of the Dark Lord, Draco had made it known that she was off limits do to her unfortunate breeding, and that if he found out anyone was after her or any Mudblood, it would mean their end.

It had been a convenient ploy.  Even as he had worked for the Dark Lord, he'd insinuated his obsession in the most delicate way possible.  Eventually, as his ranking rose and with the help of his father, Draco was able to ensure that if she were captured, she would be his.  He would still have had to marry Astoria, but he could have had Granger on the side.  That boon had been a delightful and inspirational gift from the Dark Lord.

The Marriage Law was even better, though.  Draco would bring a new honor to the Malfoy line, one fit for this new age.


	2. Chapter 1

_"Well, well, if it isn't the newest Lady Malfoy."_

The words echoed through the hall that intersected where Hermione Granger was patrolling. She groaned inwardly, dropping her head in a silent prayer to any god that this was just a bad dream at the end of a nightmare of a day.

This morning had opened on a very low, very sour note. The headline of the Prophet flashed:

**MANDATE PASSED:**   
**All Purebloods Required to Wed Half-bloods and Muggle-borns.**

The story below had touted the Ministry for fining suspected pureblood supremacists and forcing them to breed with non-purebloods to thin the genetics out and repopulate Wizarding Britain. Of course, the Ministry thought nothing of mandating compliance from said Muggle-borns and Half-bloods, who would just jump at the opportunity to do their 'civic duty'.

Hermione knew better; it actually meant that Muggle-borns and Half-bloods were for sale, and to the highest bidder. She had spent every spare moment since the bill had been introduced researching and fighting it, but she, along with the others who had worked tirelessly, had lost.

It had only been six weeks since the fall of Voldemort when the bill was proposed. That was five months ago, and instead of preparing to retrieve her parents from Australia and having a regular family Christmas, she was getting ready to execute her escape plan. If her travels with Harry had taught her anything, it was to always have a plan B.

Hermione flicked her wand over herself, casting a silent _noceo impedemenere_. It was a good spell to use around school, since it protected from mischief without being offensive.

Steeling herself, she declared, "You must be mistaken, Ferret, since there is only a Mudblood in this corridor, and she most certainly isn't getting married, especially to you." Hermione's voice rang clear at first, but she grumbled the last bit, unsure of whether or not she wanted to provoke him.

Hermione hadn't slowed her patrolling for him so she was very surprised to feel his hand, firm but gentle on her shoulder. She tried to shake him off; she was unsuccessful.

Draco gently pulled her into what might have been a casual embrace, had they not been at best bitter rivals but really bitter enemies for the last six and a half years. He licked his lips and looked her over. "You will make the loveliest bride in years, and our wedding will be the talk of the wizarding world for seasons."

Shocked by his insistence, Hermione made no move, but stared at him like he was thicker than two short planks nailed together. "Malfoy – listen carefully because I'm not going to repeat myself. I… am… not… marrying." Hermione tried to keep it simple since he was acting so dimly.

"Winter weddings are unusual, right?” Draco carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. “People are always going for spring or summer for the weather or flowers. You don't have to bother yourself though. It's nearly planned – colours are navy and creme, which is better than white for your skin tone – the fitting is this weekend. Do you prefer fairy lights or candles?" Draco asked seriously.

Hermione smiled indulgently before trying to pull away. "Whatever your little, black heart desires."

"I can't wait for our wedding night, when I can break your maidenhead and finally make you mine," Draco said, leaning closer to her as if he were sharing his deepest secrets. "Shall we save it? I know a book of spells..." Draco whispered to her.

Hermione was put off, to say the least, and tried to pull his hands apart behind her back. "Are you high, Malfoy?"

Draco pulled her closer, completely unfazed. "High, Granger?" He turned their bodies toward a little alcove and pressed her into it, leaning against her gently.

" _On drugs?_ Potions? Firewhiskey?" Hermione dug her heels into the stone floor and bobbed out from Draco's embrace. She'd been so exhausted that she'd let her guard down a little, and was now furious with herself.

She was only made more frustrated when Draco got aggressive and pulled her roughly against him as he turned and leaned on the wall. His left hand was caressing her hair now, and Hermione could see he ached to run his hand down her cheek. She could feel the protection spell tingling now, as if it too were unsure of Draco's motives.

"No. Just relishing my prize," Draco said softly, trying to keep his temper.

"I'm not your bloody prize, Malfoy." Hermione gritted through her teeth and stomped rudely on his instep. Draco jumped and Hermione scurried down the hall.

He turned to follow her; she could hear his heels clicking on the stones. She turned to shout back at him before taking the moving stairs, "Leave me alone, Malfoy. I'm not marrying you."

"What are you going to do? Break the Law? Give up your wand? _Miss the NEWTs?_ " Draco stopped and called after her.

Hermione didn’t look back again. She just hurried to Gryffindor tower, muttering angrily at herself for letting her guard down, and cursing the Ministry and ferrets.

* * *

Before Hermione went into her room, she looked around to make sure she hadn't been followed, but Draco followed her in anyway, as he had done every night since the beginning of the year. He had known she would resist; it was part of the fun. He liked her spitfire nature. He liked that she out-performed him in courses. He liked that she was a challenge, his unicorn, his Holy Grail, his uncatchable snitch. Now she was his.

When she had trotted away from him just now, Draco had Disillusioned himself so he could follow her covertly. He made himself perfectly silent and followed, enjoying this little bit of snake and mouse.

Each night he'd watch her study, read, or sleep until it was very late, then he'd retreat to his room and wait for the next night. Tonight would be different. He would mark her tonight. He had almost held off in talking to her before she saw the announcement in the paper tomorrow morning, but he wanted to see her face, to touch her, to stake his claim in person.

Draco watched as Hermione cancelled some spells in her room and got ready for bed; she pulled the covers up under her arms and set about reading, her face slowly relaxing as she forgot about him. Hermione was so beautiful when she wasn't scowling.

Once she was engrossed in her book, Draco lifted his wand and cast a spell that made Hermione drop the book in her lap in bed and fall into a deep, magical sleep.

He moved to sit next to her and began stroking her arms. His hand ran over her breasts, gently petting them before adjusting her so she lay properly in bed. Draco pulled her hair out from under her and spread it across her pillow. It was so soft underneath, and he loved to see it fanned out on her pillow. When Draco had especially bad days, he would brush her hair while she slept. He would never touch her too much, though, because he didn't want to disturb her sleep.

However, between the time in the hall and excitement that she'd be his soon, he was already ready to fuck her. He stood up and adjusted his erection before taking several deep cleansing breaths with his eyes shut. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to stay as long as he liked; instead he would head straight to his room and wank, making a mental note to grab today's knickers from the hamper.

But first, Draco wanted to mark her. He positioned himself on the side of her bed, his wand hand behind her neck. He began to chant softly, and he could feel the tattoo on the left side of his chest heat and sting.

The ancient magic coursed through his arm and soon his palm began to tingle and burn a tiny reproduction of his dragon onto the nape of her neck.

Hermione whimpered beneath him. Draco took his free hand and soothingly stroked her face, cooing softly to her for a moment until she quieted. He smiled as he finished the chant and carefully lifted her up to check his work. It was perfect.

For now it would just mark her as his; no other wizard could touch her. When they were married it could bind her to him and Hermione Granger--soon to be Hermione Malfoy--would never be away from him unless he permitted it.

Draco adoringly stroked her hair for a few more minutes before summoning her knickers and making his exit. As he strolled through the hall he almost felt like whistling, but settled instead for fingering her cotton underthings in his pocket.


	3. Chapter 2

Hermione woke up with the sun the following day. She stretched and sighed, completely unaware of her hair perfectly placed on the pillow below her or of the mark on her neck. Her mind was already on to the day's business, and she was feeling melancholy about having to do this so soon. However, she was not about to marry Malfoy, or anyone else.

Hermione felt she deserved a little more from Wizarding Britain than to squirt out blond ferrets for the rest of her days. She knew magic was primal, but did not think that wizards had to be so primitive! She would give Malfoy one chance to rescind his petition. If he didn't, she'd launch her protest. After last night and the way Draco acted, she was sure he wouldn't leave her be.

She had already planned with Colin Creevey to record her protest for prosperity. After so many months of fighting the law, she knew to look good for Colin and their latest media barrage. Hermione brushed out her hair, and twisted it into a great pile of ringlets with her wand. She put on a little make-up and pulled on her uniform, making sure her tie was straight and smooth, and her shoes were highly polished.

Digging into the back of her wardrobe, she grabbed a backpack that she'd made up for this very event. Hermione had made sure it appeared identical to her school bag, but filled it with what she thought she would need after breakfast. During her free period yesterday, she'd verified everything, and set it aside, knowing it was only a matter of time until someone tried to buy her.

Fortunately, Hermione's friends all knew what she was about to do. They'd all talked tearfully about it last night before patrols. This was probably what put her off her guard; she was intellectually, emotionally, and physically exhausted. Fortunately, Draco had been playing nice last night. Hermione guessed it was because he thought this was a done deal.

She scoffed, thinking about the night before. He had said he wanted her maidenhead. Hermione found this hilarious, not only because he felt so entitled to it, but because it was long gone. Also, Draco thought she was such a goody-goody that she would let the government sell her to him so he could impregnate her repeatedly, as if this is what the brightest witch of her generation should be doing with her life. Truly laughable, except that it was her latest bizarre reality.

Hermione shook her head and took one last long look around. After breakfast, everything would be different. She was a little sad, but also thrilled by what she was gearing up to do. With that thought as a beacon of hope in her heart, Hermione went down to breakfast.

* * *

Draco watched her come in looking especially pretty. He almost choked on his porridge when he caught sight of her gorgeous ringlets and beautiful doe eyes. He couldn't wait to give her clothes she deserved, clothes in the finest fabrics made by the best tailors. Draco's delight was lessened when he saw her idiot friends make space for her, each giving her a tight squeeze before she could completely sit down facing away from him. That wouldn't be happening by this time next week. He smirked and looked up for the post, anxious for it to come so everyone would know she was his.

Draco unconsciously rubbed his tattoo while chewing on a bit of bacon. Watching her, he noticed Hermione's hand come up to scratch the back of her neck. He quickly pulled his hand away. He didn't want her to touch his until after the post came. Draco let out a sigh of relief when her hand dropped down and she began eating again. Hermione appeared to be really tucking in, and Draco was glad she had a healthy appetite. She'd need to be strong to produce his heir.

At last, the post came. He watched stupid Potter pay the Prophet owl, and look through the paper to see if Hermione had been listed yet. The headline directed him to page six, and he folded the paper to show to Hermione. Hermione nodded and kept eating. She hardly said anything at all. Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek, looking sad.

Draco smiled, feeling that it was about time to enjoy his victory. He stood up from his bench and strode over to stand behind Hermione, picking up one of the perfect ringlets and playing with it gently. "See Granger, I told you we'd be wed."

Potter turned to scowl at him. "Hands off." 

"I don't think so. A man is well within his rights to enjoy the charms of his affianced, Potter." It was all Draco could do to keep from sneering at the Boy-Who-Lived Twice. However, he knew this was the new world order, and he supposed he could be civil for Hermione's sake …for now.

Hermione crammed one last piece of bacon into her mouth, trying to shake her hair out of his hand.

Beside her, Weasley snickered. "You really are blind aren't you, Ferret? Hermione doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. She never accepted your proposal, it was forced onto her. She's hardly affianced to you." He said in a mocking tone and snorted softly.

Draco rolled his eyes, and seeing that Hermione was done with breakfast, moved to help her stand.

Hermione brushed his hand away, pulling her bag up on her shoulders. A few seats down, Creevey stood up and pointed his camera at them. Finally, Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Malfoy, if you don't retract your petition, I'll be forced to do something drastic."

Draco smirked. "That's impossible Granger. That petition is legally and magically binding." He looked over her lazily, smug smile in place.

Hermione nodded at him sadly and fished out a fine copper-coloured necklace from the pocket of her robe. She flicked her wand at it and it coiled around her neck. Finally, she stepped up onto the bench behind her to announce, "I, Hermion Jean Granger, do hereby renounce the Marriage Law and the ministry who approved it. In protest, I am leaving the country and breaking my wand!"

Then, she held her precious wand over her head with one hand on each end and began pressing the ends together. Draco's look of delight turned to utter horror. He was frozen in terror.

She wouldn't. She couldn't! But she was and she did!

And when her wand finally splintered and broke a great clap of thunder sounded, and Hermione screamed in great pain, her back arching as the magical force ripped through her body. At first, all eyes were locked on her, but then a louder deeper moan echoed in terrible harmony with hers, as Draco was experiencing her pain through his tattoo.

Finally, as the magical force was completely expelled, they slumped to the floor. Hermione reached up, touched her necklace, and whispered, "Portus."

Draco felt his body begin to slump as he watched her disappear before his eyes. That was the last thing he could remember before losing consciousness in the middle of the Great Hall.


	4. Chapter 3

Hermione felt the hook and pull as she was transported through spacetime. Upon landing rudely on hard ground, cried, "Asylum!" before falling into a coma.

* * *

Three days later, in a small hut deep in the Andes Mountains, Hermione wheezed as she felt her ribs sewing themselves back together. Landing the way she did had left her body cracked and shattered, especially after such a magically traumatizing event. She knew she wasn't actually hearing her bones being put back together cell by cell, but each fusion seemed to echo through her skull in evil sounding snicks and sizzles.

It was wasn't as bad as Crucio, but it was close.

Hermione took deep breaths and willed the pain away, a neural Occlumency that was a little bit like Lamaze. She had learned it from Professor Snape, who had not survived the war, and it had come in handy time and again.

A cool breeze wafted through the room, and Hermione shivered, noticing for the first time that she was nearly bald. She clapped her hands to her head in a moment of panic. Hermione only kept herself from hyperventilating by tuning into the voice that had begun to speak to her.

"You made quite an exit, as well as quite an entrance the other day, Ms. Granger," a kind sounding man said as he got up from a chair in the shadows.

"You know my name?" Hermione was shocked. This was one of the most remote, least known locations of an ancient magical culture she had heard of. Not the most remote, but it was close.

"We do get a paper or two every now and again." The man tossed a copy of _The Prophet_ into her lap. The headline read: **Malfoy Heir in Coma as Heroine Flees. Is the Cause a Broken Wand or a Broken Heart?**  
Hermione scoffed.

"We can offer you asylum from Britain, but not from him," the man continued, looking uneasy. "If he comes, we must let him in, and you will have to see to him."

"I don't understand." Hermione said quietly, trying to be as unassuming as possible. She had read about this colony, and knew initiates had to be very submissive.

"You were engaged to be married."

"Yes."

"You accepted a mark from him?"

"What? No. We barely speak." 

The man nodded, and passed her two old mirrors that looked to be from about forty years ago. "The back of your neck."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from looking at her face; she had faint eyebrows and eye lashes and tiny coils of hair starting to grow in. She took a look at her face, and decided she didn't need long hair to look feminine. She had nice bone structure and clean skin. Hermione had had long hair since before she could remember – she would try a shorter style from now on.

Finally turning her focus to the back of her neck, she came across a Celtic dragon coiled around in an incomplete circle.

"That filthy, sneaky, bloody bastard ferret! I'm going to fucking kill him when I get my hands on his no good conniving sneaking neck." Hermione knew that this was a new …desecration on her neck.

Ginny had made a big deal out of playing with her hair the Sunday before the law was passed. It hadn't been there then. Nothing Monday, and then, the confrontation with Draco Tuesday. The little bastard must have snuck into her room! She had felt funny all year long, like someone had been in her room with her, but she could never place it, and she always chalked it up to paranoia from the war.

What was the old adage? Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't watching you.

"You did not do this voluntarily." It was hardly a question, but it was required.

"No. I have no desire to be bonded. I would not knowingly drag such a disruption to your doorstep."

The man looked at hert. "Very well. Your quarters are with the other initiates. You will begin tomorrow."

"Is my sheath dress appropriate? The pictures I had for reference were very, very tiny."

The man smiled. "As always, you came extremely prepared, Ms. Granger. Now, you must rest." The man nodded, and moved back to his chair as Hermione fell into a deep sleep at his suggestion.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy had her usual stately look while she sat by Draco's bedside at St. Mungo's. This was the third day that he lay unconscious, but she knew it wouldn't be too much longer.

When she had arrived via the floo on the first day, Draco had been completely hairless, and his fingernails and toe nails had fallen off. The healers said it was a result of conducting so much magical force.

Narcissa had wondered to herself why none had experienced such a thing at the end of the war, but she had kept that thought to herself.  
Now her son had the perfect toe and finger nails of a new-born. She was oddly sentimental about such things, but since Draco had been her only child, she could easily remember such tiny details. His hair was dusting along his scalp even blonder than it had been before.

She hadn’t thought such a thing were possible.

Narcissa was reading a special afternoon edition of the Prophet and considering what had happened in the last few days. Lucius had pushed the law through, ensuring that Draco would get the girl he'd dreamed of.

It had left quite a bitter taste in their mouths when she and Lucius had discovered Draco's desires, but the Mudblood was clearly a powerful witch, and her connections could be great enough to overlook her unfortunate birth. Besides, it wasn't as though there would be any true pure-bloods left within a generation.

Narcissa sighed softly.

Then, there was the snapping of the girl's wand, by her own hand nonetheless!

Narcissa huffed – _the cheek of that girl!_

This had put everyone on hold. The Ministry weren't interested in having Muggle-borns riot, especially this soon after the demise of the Dark Lord. On the other hand, having a record of a recent wand-snapping available to everyone definitely cooled the rebels' heels and kept them from repeating the action.

A wand-breaking was a horrible thing to see, and any time she thought of it, Narcissa would shiver.

She was carelessly flipping pages when Draco finally began to stir and let out a low moan. She called for her husband and took Draco's hand, squeezing it gently. "Draco, darling, I'm here."

"Mother? Wh-"

"Sh-sshh – Rest." Narcissa soothingly ran her hand over Draco's scalp.

This was the wrong move, as Draco had not expected his hair to be so short. He jerked his hands up to his head and let out a louder groan. "She said she was going to do something drastic, but my hair? My hair! And all that business about protesting the law! By making me bald?"  
"That is quite enough, Draco." The firm but warm tone of his father's powerful voice calmed Draco almost instantaneously. 

Narcissa knew that father and son would both admit just between the two of them that Draco was, for lack of a better phrase, a daddy's boy. She could coddle and spoil and reprimand, but Draco knew his father had the power, and he always used it to nurture his son.

Lucius Malfoy adored his boy, and did everything in his power to be all that the boy needed. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened before your affianced snapped her wand."

Draco paled, remembering, now, all that had happened. Draco looked up when his father cleared his throat and began his tale. He relayed how the night had gone, and how the morning started out, careful not to belittle Potter and Weasley with words, but his parents knew his meanings. By the time he got done with the story, his audience was looking at him with moderate incredulity.

"Where'd she go, Draco?" Narcissa whispered.

"I don't know; I only saw her disappear. The necklace she put on must have been a Portkey. I'm sure they know," he said.

Watching her son, Narcissa could see the bitterness he felt in asking her friends to find her. Despite everything, Draco seemed unconcerned, as though his father could just bring her through the door for him.

Lucius passed Draco a newspaper. The headline read: **Potter Claims Secret Contingency Plan a Holdover from the War.** As he opened to the article, Draco would read about how the Golden Trio made a pact to always escape. Each had a series of Portkeys on their person anytime they went into battle, and they all went to different locations unknown by the others. In this way they knew that if one fell in battle, the others would escape.

"You were connected through the branding, which is why her 'drastic measures' affected you. Fortunately, that will hold, even if the law doesn't. We simply have to find her. We shall look after you've completed your NEWTs," Lucius explained, his tone ripe with disgust.

"Father, _six months_?" Draco asked, barely keeping himself from whining. "That bitch!" Draco threw himself back on the bed, clearly feeling as though he'd merely had a good night's sleep instead of being in a coma for three days. 

Narcissa watched as he pouted for a moment before looking up into his father's impatient gaze. After one last harrumph, he pulled himself together in a manner befitting a Malfoy.

When Lucius felt his son had gotten his thoughts in order, he finally got down to the meat of the matter. "We'll have them release you, and I'll put some researchers on it. Where do you suggest they begin?"

"Places with libraries. Locations with ancient magic. Countries that won't let us extradite. Anywhere that is hard to get to." Draco said with absolute certainty as he thought about what his fiancée would do to get away from the law.

"Excellent. Now get dressed, it's time we departed," Lucius instructed as he swept out the door.

Narcissa watched him go and then waited for her son’s attention. When he was looking at her, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. She slid her fingers down his baby soft cheek before standing to collect her things. “Take your time, darling. You’ve had quite an event.” At last, Narcissa left her son’s bedside for the last time in this whole ordeal.

* * *

Draco waited for the door to close behind his mother before leaning into his pillows and moaning. He couldn't help but take it a little bit personally that Hermione had snapped her wand instead of marrying him. He could not imagine how she could do such a thing.

Although, as he thought about it, it was certainly not him, but that she was forced to marry that was the problem. He thought of her little speech: it was the law and the Ministry who shouldered the blame for this. He remembered holding her in his arms while they talked, and how good he had felt then. 

Besides, his father said they would work out where she was, and then they'd retrieve her, and they'd be wed. After all of this, Draco became determined to woo Hermione properly. He could hardly wait for it. It felt like just moments ago she was resting so peacefully under him in her bed, and now he had to wait six bloody months?

Draco stretched once more before peeling back the blankets and putting his feet to the floor. He knew that the sooner he left, the sooner it could all begin again. He knew he could wait for her as long as he needed to. It had already been _years_ after all.


	5. Chapter 4

Hermione had been meditating since the summer after first year. It had been quite a year, and she found that only meditation could keep her focused. Now, six years later, she was extremely practiced at clearing her mind and keeping it clear. This was the first thing that propelled her through the initiate training.

It had been a little strange at first to bunk with the six other initiates, two of whom were boys, and all were children. The Incan mystics started training very early, and in many ways it was more thorough than what she had learned at Hogwarts. It wasn’t just learning rote spells and following an instructor. She had to feel the elements around her, summon them up without a wand to guide her.

Of course, she had better mental control than her 8-year-old counterparts. However, she could not summon the elements as they could. None of them had a wand, but she missed hers like she missed her friends.

Hermione had to unlearn all of her training with a focus object before she could even dream to master magic their way. It took three solid months before she successfully cast her first wandless spell. This was especially surprising since she had known wandless spells already. However, there was a great difference in being wandless and trained for a wand, and being wandless and having to essentially make her whole body act like a wand.

When Hermione mastered a new level, she would change her quarters to be with the other initiates at her level. It was a crash course in ancient magic as well as a whirlwind tour of the colony. After she got her magic flowing again, her abilities caught on like wildfire. About the time that she would have been graduating Hogwarts she was ready to matriculate into the community as Mage. 

She stood in a cool room made of limestone with intricately carved frescos along the wall being fitted for her mage's robes. Hermione's training had consisted of serious manual labour as well as daily calisthenics, and her once toned body was now ripped with the extra work and a new diet. Her hair had grown back darker, and the curls coiled tighter. She was a golden brown, and while not as dark as the natives, she certainly didn't stand out as the pale Brit these days.

Hermione still had on her copper necklace, it was charmed as a universal translator. Her Mage's robes were a pale lavender, and her sandals had moulded to her feet so well that they felt like second skin. Altogether she'd guess she was an impressive sight, except that there were no mirrors here for her to verify with. Complete immersion into this world made her almost feel like everything before that a distant dream sometimes. Still, when she pressed her thumb into her DA galleon at night, she'd get a round of greetings and an inquisition about how she was doing.

* * *

Lucius was livid. His best researchers had been working six months, and they had two dozen possible locations for the girl. He'd initially only pulled three people to work on this project, but he'd ended up doubling the workers twice. 

The pulsing in his brain was getting to him. Lucius knew that Draco had certainly chosen the best available witch; he couldn't fault him for that. Still, graduation was a week away and he was unsure of where to travel first.

She wouldn't be in Europe, that much was certain. Additionally, Britain 's foreign relations were such that if she'd fled anywhere, any nation would have kept her, partly out of spite, and partly because she was so powerful.

Lucius had never really considered how vast the world was until he went to find a needle in a haystack. Was she in India ? China? Japan? He didn't think that she'd go to the Middle East, although, she could easily hide in a burqa and no one would be the wiser.

Polynesia? The American Southwest? Mexico City? The idea of South America made his stomach churn. There were a dozen locations in South America alone. Africa was a long shot, considering how she'd stand out, but there were still a couple places that would still harbour the little fugitive.

He did have to admit that reading the reports about each proposed place proved to be interesting reading. Lucius hadn't really ever given second thought to magic outside of his Eurocentric worldview. Well, it wasn't a first for firsts, he'd never thought he'd be seeking out the Mudblood to be his only son's bride either. A lesser man would have let his head flop wearily on his desk. Luckily, Lucius Malfoy was not a lesser man.

Lucius rubbed his temples. He was approaching this the wrong way, of that he was certain. He now knew a good deal about Ms. Granger. She came from a surprisingly upper middle class background. Her parents were learned professionals, even if they were Muggles. She was an only child. She was a Gryffindor. She was righteous. She had convictions: she had broken her wand.

She had no wand! Lucius put all of the reports in a neat pile to be reviewed with hopefully a new approach. He now knew that wands were less commonly used in equatorial communities. He siphoned out any of the communities that were too far north or south. Next went any that were patriarchal; knowing that Draco had branded her in addition to fleeing the law, she would want something egalitarian, if not matriarchal. There were only thirteen left.

If he were an 18-year old single witch who had just survived a war, where would he go? Sure it   
wasn't really a fair question to ask, since Lucius had been a grown, married wizard so long he couldn't remember much else, but it begged asking.

Granger liked adventure; Granger liked new things, likes discovery, likes freedom. Lucius threw out any that were on an island. Not only would it be possible that she might get bored on an island, it would make escape only viable by Portkey. He knew, now, that she would always have a Portkey on her, but she would want to be able to flee by land as well.

That took his pile down to five locations, and he finally felt his head begin to clear. Colchis, Mexico City, Mesa Verde, and two unnamed locations, one in Brazil and one in Peru. For the first time since Draco had come out of the coma, Lucius had a plan. It made him feel so much better. A goal was always a good thing.


	6. Chapter 5

Hermione woke up with a jungle cat in her bed. Well, not any jungle cat, it was her jungle cat. Crookshanks, being half kneazle, had been large. However, this cat was just over a meter long from shoulder to rump, her tail just as long, and easily weighed five stone and was only 2/3 grown. The cat had come to Hermione when she matriculated.

She'd gone on a spirit quest. Hermione laughed a little now. She'd eaten a variety of mushrooms and smoked a huge bowl of 'sacred herbs'. If only her friends at home had seen her, high as kite in an ancient sauna. Of course, after a few minutes she'd passed out, sprawled in her plainest shift, as her mind went through a great journey without her body.

Immediately a large cat like the one that lay in the curve of her body had begun to walk with her as she made her travels. She couldn't remember the whole thing at once, only snippets here and there and different ones every time, but always she'd had this cat, and, at the end of it all, they'd walked to a great bonfire. Fearlessly she walked into the great blaze and after a moment, she burst into flames, but instead of great pain she felt great rebirth. Hermione knew she wasn't a phoenix, but it was the only way she could think of explaining it.

Now that she was a grown up in the community, she had work to do. Stretching languorously on her hammock, Hermione rubbed the belly of the beast beside her. This cat's name was Acara, and she certainly had the bearing of a queen. Acara opened one eye a tiny bit and looked at Hermione, only to close her eye once again.

"Well, if you don't want breakfast...." Hermione chided and pulled her hand back. Acara growled and Hermione lightly smacked her belly, laughing when Acara's tail swept around and thumped Hermione's leg. "Lazy beast."

Hermione reached to the shelf on the wall and pulled a torque onto her arm, pressing her thumb on the galleon in the centre, and letting her friends know she was up for the day. She rarely got more than a warm response back, but today it burned hot as soon as she set her thumb to it.

_DM/LM trvling-HP_ – It was Harry. 

Hermione stomped her foot. Why couldn't they just leave her be?

_Where??_ – She replied.

_Mid East_

_Colchis?_

_idk_ – Harry posted after a moment.

Still, Hermione knew immediately that meant Colchis, which she had thought of going to, but had decided it was too close, too populated, and ultimately, not safe. She was a little concerned that they had started out on such good footing. If she had been in their position, she would have started there too. Colchis was still nearby, and it was a reasonable choice.

_np. ty._

Her words faded and she stared at the coin a moment. Then Harry came back. _u ok?_

Before Hermione could respond, Acara twisted around her legs. Whatever else was happening, she had work to do, and that meant breakfast, of course. _yes, h, xo_

_u sure?_

_yes_

The coin in her hand grew generally warm, as it usually would with a casual greeting. Then Harry came back a last time. _xo's, W's too_

_send love--_

Hermione waited until the coin finally cooled and she could put her armband back on. She was glad it was Harry 'on the line'. Ron couldn't write a letter to save his life, but had thousands of words when trying to write on a coin. Also, Harry knew about computers, texting, IM'ing, and shorthand. It made things a little easier. Hermione was rubbing a little wetness and some sleep out of her eyes when she felt Acara pushing on her backside.

"Yes! Breakfast. I remember!" Hermione laughed as she turned on the cat and picked her up, draping her over her shoulders like she would with Crooks. That this cat was at least five times her kneazle didn't seem to faze her at all.

* * *

Draco felt a little strange out of his customary robes.

He had woken up the day after the leaving feast with his trunk packed for travel and a Turkish style robe laid out for him. His father would take him on a hunting expedition for his bride.

He had called a house-elf to take his things downstairs, and Apparated into the foyer to kiss his mother goodbye. From there, Draco grabbed the Portkey, nodded quickly to his father, and they set out upon their tour.

Surprisingly for Draco, Colchis had been fascinating. Of course, he and Lucius hadn't just walked up to the head of the government, demanding his Granger back. They had to ingratiate themselves first. That meant tourism and a fair amount of commerce. They arrived in Tblisi and found their way into the ancient city. It was so much to take in, the time passed faster than he imagined.

Draco hadn't really ever considered traveling the world. Why bother when he was already so well connected in Britain? France was nice of course, and Spain was good when he wanted someplace warm. They had a villa in Greece for when one really needed to get away, but he rarely went that far. He hoped she'd be there, as the Americas seemed so... unpleasantly nouveau.

He enjoyed Colchis for the great city that it was. They'd been to two great libraries. Draco had never seen one that was better than the Malfoy library, though Hogwarts' was almost as good. Both of these libraries had books he couldn't imagine, and he'd forgotten himself there on a couple of occasions. His father had smirked at him then.

While taking lunch one day in Colchis, Draco had discussed with his father what could be done with the brand. Since no Malfoy had ever had to wait so long between a branding and marriage, Lucius wasn't entirely sure, and the two of them began researching.

Lucius had actually been the one to find the first two books. Draco devoured them. They spoke of controlling one's dreams, and then extending them out into a collective subconscious. It had taken him several days to train his conscious mind to take effect in his subconscious, and another week before he had had his first dream with her…


	7. Chapter 6

Hermione looked just like she did that fateful morning all those months ago: perfect ringlets, perfect tie, shoes shined. She was lying on the grass in the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. When she noticed him, she'd scowled. Nothing new there. Draco approached her, but she did nothing but look up at the stars.

He knelt, and then crawled over her. Still nothing. Draco stroked her cheek softly. Nothing. He kissed her lips softly. Nothing. He deepened the kiss. Nothing. Draco grabbed her breast. Nothing. He was sure that he could do something to get Hermione's attention, especially in his own dream! Draco pulled out his wand and vanished her clothes. Nothing. He took off his robes so he was down to his shirtsleeves and trousers, shoes off. For a moment he just looked at her. Hermione was perfection in the starlight, her body laid out on the grass. Then he knelt over her and peppered her whole body with little kisses.

After a few minutes, he knew he was starting to get somewhere. As his lips went lower, Hermione's legs began to spread. Draco was smiling to himself in the dream when he was confronted with natural bush and swollen pink quim. Just as he was about to put his lips to it, his body ejaculated, and he was jerked out of the dream. He cleaned himself up, and went back to sleep extremely frustrated. It wasn't until he was taking lunch the next and final day in Colchis that he felt the fingers tracing the tattoo on his chest. 

This was the first time she'd ever touched it for more than a passing of her hairbrush. Draco told his father, and they smiled together knowing that this was just the beginning.  
Draco thought he might take Granger to Colchis for their honeymoon.

ooOOoo

Hermione had had sex dreams before, but none like this. First of all, the Quidditch pitch? Not that sex outside was gross or anything, but the Quidditch pitch? She'd had sex in a field of wild flowers in a dream once, and also on a grand canopy bed in a garden that appeared next to Big Ben. That one had been weird. Hermione shivered, remembering the one and only time she'd thought of Harry as anything but a brother. The morning after that dream, she'd also sworn off spicy food after ten at night.

Hermione's hand touched the back of her neck absently--she had been on the Quidditch pitch with Draco. He'd been kissing her softly all over. Hermione had wanted to just ignore him and hope that the dream would pass, but once his lips were on her nipples and the undersides of her breasts, she had to reconsider this approach.

Even in the dream, Hermione knew she should fight Draco. She couldn't though. His lips went lower and lower, and eventually her starving libido had spread her legs. Hermione could almost feel the tickle of his soft pale blond hair on her belly as she lay awake in the predawn hours. His large hands were warm against her body, and he'd looked at her with such ... puzzled intent.

Hermione slid one hand down to her quim. She was surprisingly wet. Thinking about Draco between her legs, Hermione began rubbing her clit with practiced ease. She hadn't masturbated in so long. Hermione pushed three fingers of her other hand into her cunt and fucked herself quickly and thoroughly. Her orgasm came fast, her back arching as her breath strangled out his name.

When Hermione caught her breath, Acara was looking at her from the other end of their hammock knowingly. Shite! Hermione had just frigged herself thinking about Ferret Boy. She was sated as she hadn't been in many months. Still, she was disgusted with herself, and angry. She had never dreamed of Draco before now, unless it involved him denigrating her, as was his usual. Something was up, and Hermione would have to get to the bottom of it.


	8. Chapter 7

The first thing Hermione felt in her dream was the wind blowing through her long hair. It was the first clue she had that this was a dream from Malfoy. She reached up and felt a mass of tumbling curls and loose braids sweeping around the back of her head. As the scenery filled in, she found she was standing on elegant marble steps that led out to a white sand beach. Beyond the sand lay an infinite ocean of impossibly blue water. Between her and the water was a remarkably long, formal dining table with a chair at each end. Seeing that one of the chairs was occupied by a man’s silhouette, Hermione let out an exasperated sigh.

She began to move forward, ready to get the dream over with, when she felt smooth, cool satin undulate around her legs. Looking down, Hermione found herself in a satin dress the colour of the ocean. The skirts were full and flowing, while the neckline split the snug bodice starting at the fullest part of her cleavage and finished in a high collar that showcased the delicate lines of her neck. She knew this combination would make her look extremely feminine in a sophisticated manner. Truth be told, it was a little too seductive for Hermione’s comfort.

She began walking again, feeling the warm sand press through her toes as she approached the table. Draco stood when she finally met him and took her hands gently in his own. He placed a kiss on the back of both. Hermione ached to whip her hands away from him, but couldn’t do anything but watch as Draco pulled her hands gently away from her body and took a long look at her in the dress.

“Sublime,” he commented, a true boyish smile gracing his features. “I’m so glad you could join me for dessert.”

Hermione heard someone thank him kindly. It was Draco’s Hermione doll, the one whose eyes she looked out through in these dreams.

Draco dropped one hand and led her to stand in between his chair and the table. However, he did not sit. Instead, he pressed his hips against her, which forced her to perch awkwardly on the edge of the table.

“I’m going to have you tonight, Granger.” Draco’s voice was quiet, but not a whisper. It had determination and drive behind it. “I’m going to have you, and you are going to like it. I’m going to have you begging in short order.”

Hermione thought his approach was like that of a man getting ready to diffuse a bomb. She looked him over. He wore a satin shirt in a darker shade of blue than her own. Its cut emphasized his broad shoulders and tapered torso. His grey eyes looked silver, but there were also flecks of sparkling blue. The way he looked over her put her on edge. His gaze was unfamiliar without the malice from when they’d been at Hogwarts.

Finally, Draco leaned forward and kissed her exactly between her eyebrows. “Beautiful Granger.” His hands slid up her satin covered arms, shoulders, and neck before stopping to gently cradle her head. His thumbs rested in front of her ears. It felt very secure, and that sense of security put up all of Hermione’s alarms.

Draco dropped his head, bumping her nose with his before pressing his lips down the left side of her jaw. His right hand traced the neckline of her dress, his fingers brushing over her belly before taking a firm hold at the bottom of her ribs.

“You wasted yourself pining for Weasley. It was obvious to anyone who thought about it for two seconds,” Draco whispered against her neck before nipping it and pressing his soft lips over it. He switched sides, dropping his left hand to her waist as well and lifting her up so she could sit on the table.

Draco insinuated himself between her legs and licked her right ear, scraping it gently with his teeth. “You would have been wasted on nearly any bloke.” His tongue entered her ear in the most delightful way. Had she had the ability, Hermione, would have swallowed at the sensation that mixed with the contempt she felt for him.

Draco’s thumbs began gently stroking the undersides of her breasts through her dress. In the dream, the Hermione doll arched her back just barely, and Hermione’s thoughts were assailed with the sensations of Draco’s teeth and mouth on her increasingly exposed neck. In the waking world, Hermione’s body began to writhe gently in her bed as she slept in her hammock.

“You know, if you’d stayed at home, you might have been pregnant by now.” Draco kissed her collarbone as his hands began to stroke the curves down to her hips and up again. Hermione was pleased; that was just the thing she needed to hear to keep her resistance up. She needed it as his tongue swept lower and lower, following her neckline. “If we’d had our babies right away, by the time they were done at Hogwarts, you’d still be a young,” lick “beautiful,” lick “brilliant witch.”

Shite. That was not going to help her keep her head clear. Of course Draco would say anything to get his way. Hermione just had to keep that in mind. This became extremely difficult when he palmed both of her breasts and squeezed firmly. From somewhere, the doll moaned, and Draco’s smile beamed with a smug backlight.

“I would have brought any master to the Manor so you could still apprentice, Granger.” He pulled away enough to look her in the eye for a moment. “I had one lined up for me to do Potions. He’s still in queue, but this little…” Draco’s gaze became annoyed and he twisted her nipples for a moment, “jaunt has delayed my plans.” Draco leaned forward and pressed his mouth against her ear again. “You think I’d let that brain of yours rot for the rest of our lives?” He nipped her ear rudely before massaging it with his lips. “I want a wife, not a whore.” Draco’s hand began to work all the buttons down the front of her dress. As each was undone, the sliver of flesh that showed became wider and longer. The last one, just below her naval, opened, and Draco snaked his hand inside and around her.

Hermione could feel his strong arm behind her. Her mind was whirling with the things he was saying. Then she felt a breeze across her bare chest, and her attention was brought back just as he said, “Well, I want you to act like a whore sometimes.” His smirk pressed into her nipple, and then she felt him suck as much as he could into his mouth.

The doll moaned, and Hermione hated that she might have had to agree at the moment. Draco was pulling her dress off her shoulders, one hand supporting her. Slowly and gently, he scraped his teeth over her areola and nipple before turning his head to assault the other breast in just the same way.

When he was done, Draco laid Hermione down on the table, her top half totally bared. The dress was pushed down to her hips, and if it hadn’t been a dream, she might have been uncomfortable on the wrinkles of fabric. However, all she could do was watch from inside the doll as she panted and writhed. In her hammock in the waking world, Hermione’s body was doing the same.

Draco stood and pushed both hands through his hair, captivated by the image in front of him. Hermione, half naked, laid out on a beautiful dining table for his consumption. “Time for dessert,” he muttered distractedly. Draco stepped back and sat in his chair, looking like a king on a throne, and pulled himself into the table.

He grabbed Hermione’s thighs and pulled so that her arse came to the edge of the table. She felt her skirts caressing her thighs. Draco pushed the fabric up onto her belly, exposing her bare cunt. Hermione could hear a low growl, which made her wish that she could sit up and see just what he was doing.

“Stay.”

The command was followed by Draco spreading Hermione’s legs. Quickly, he pressed two fingers through her labia, unfolding them so he could see her quim. Two fingers from his other hand immediately penetrated her, thrusting into her.

The doll moaned in delight, her back arching. Hermione’s focus was lost now that Draco was massaging her in such a way.

“You won’t be coming. I won’t have any early departures tonight,” Draco informed her before he pressed the flat of his tongue at the very bottom of her slit and began lapping the whole distance slowly again and again. It was delightful, but it was also torturous. Eventually, he moved both of her thighs over his shoulders, using his tongue to fuck her slowly.

Soon her rolling hips matched the rhythm of his tongue, although it seemed like her drive was a little more frantic than his. Hermione looked out at the dreamscape, her muscles twitching gently. She knew she could easily finish, and it would really take very little effort on his part. She also figured that he knew as much and was keeping her near the precipice on purpose.

After what seemed like an eternity of his gentle tongue fucking, Hermione felt his hands slide up her thighs. Her gaze lolled over to him and soon he was standing, only her feet resting on his shoulders, and his hands stroking her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” Draco clenched his fingers around her calves for a moment before continuing their firm massage. “It’s a shame that I can’t actually fuck you, Granger.” Draco scowled down at her for a moment. “A bloody shame. But after tonight, you’ll know. All you have to do is come home.” Draco paused to position his cock at her entrance. “And you can have as much of this as you want.” With that last thought, Draco pushed his cock in all the way.

The both moaned loudly. Draco didn’t move. That feminine voice whimpered piteously, and Hermione could feel her hips rolling, trying to encourage him to proceed.

“Beg.”

Hermione could hear the voice begin to plead, complimenting his size and telling him how good it felt. The only thing that achieved was a slight shift. Draco was reaching forward to grip her jaw firmly but gently.

“One day, Granger. One day you will beg.” Draco pulled his cock back slowly. He began fucking her so slowly, infuriatingly, maddeningly slowly. The worst part was the way he pinned her there with his gaze. Hermione felt like her will had crumbled to dust.

Draco began speeding up, the desire to take his time destroyed by the hormones of being a teenager. He never broke his gaze, though. “One day.” His free hand moved to stroke her clit, and Hermione was lost to a wave of sensation.

He was fucking her harder and harder, deeper and faster every second. Finally, his thumb brushed her clit in just the right way. Her body, in the dream and in her hammock, arched up, and the pained cry of her glorious orgasm rang through her cottage.

The cries lasted even after she was awake, the seconds seeming like eons, until her body was left with aftershocks.


	9. Chapter 8

As Hermione's consciousness shifted from Draco's beach to her home in the colonies, Hermione felt her heart plummet. Draco had fucked her and she’d loved it. The thought of fighting harder flickered through her mind, but she dismissed firmly. She had no control over these dreams, none at all.

That didn’t prevent the remains of her dinner from churning in her stomach. She rolled to the end of the hammock, getting her head over the edge just in time to vomit all over her floor. The gentle sway of the hammock didn’t help. Once everything had settled, she reached for the flannel in the bowl and wiped the sick from her mouth. With a flick of her wrist, the mess on the floor was gone.

Hermione rolled back into the centre of her bed and curled up into herself. Acara bumped Hermione in the knee, and soon the girl was cuddled around her beast, unable to make heads or tails of her situation.

* * *

Ten nights later Hermione found herself at Malfoy Manor with Draco. He was laying in an enormous bed, Slytherin green silk pants resting low on his hips. Hermione was watching him. He lay motionless for a while, a perfect statue of Malfoy characteristics.

Draco was watching her as well. Hermione looked down at herself: she was made up like some cartoon Godiva, her hair covering her breasts and nothing covering her crotch. Even in the dream, Hermione felt wretched, like a whore on display. Could one vomit in their dreams?

Draco's hand pulled out his cock from under his pants. He looked at her, and spoke to her like she was a badly behaved child. "See what you do to me? What you've always done to me, you fucking Mudblood." His cock was hard and he was jerking it. "Pull your nipples."

Hermione's hands obeyed, and in dream-clouded fascination and horror, Hermione's subconscious played along, too. She tossed her long curls behind her shoulders and began pulling her nipples so Draco could see.

His eyes lit up with possessive pride. "Perfect." He pressed his hand over the head of his prick and gazed at her. "You're mine, Granger. How dare you make me chase you? Pinch your nipples." Hermione did, whimpering. "You like that? It's supposed to be a punishment, you slut. Pinch harder." In the dream, Hermione did, she pinched so hard, that she woke. Her nipples were throbbing. This was the fourth dream, and each time she would wake up nauseated and aroused.

Flicking a finger at the lamp near her bed, she began writing in her dream journal. Remembering as many details as she could, Draco's hard cock, his intense gaze, his instructions... Hermione was torn between wanting to continue playing with herself, well on her way as she was, and wanting to jump in the coldest bit of the nearby river and wash his vile, insidious suggestions out of her mind. She shivered.

Hermione would review the dream with Marcela from the council in the morning. Then they could analyze it and look for clues. That would be later though. It was still dark as pitch out, and Hermione had to clear her mind. Just for research's sake, she pressed her middle finger into her quim. Right--juicy and ready. Draco could slide in and pound her thoroughly, if he were here. Hermione was so aroused she almost wished he was.

Bastard. Hermione crawled out of her hammock and into her loo. She filled the tub with cool water and grabbed a flannel from the rack. As Hermione scrubbed her body down, she thought of a thousand reasons she did not want to shag Fucking Malfoy, and she thought of everyone else who would be better. An hour later, thoroughly unaroused, she crawled back into her hammock where Acara had waited for her and fell asleep after meditating for a few minutes.

* * *

Draco watched Hermione evaporate from his dream and swore. Gods, he was so hard from watching her punish herself at his command. Her nipples were beautiful. Her everything was beautiful. She didn't even fight back, just obeyed him, as she should. He would have to curb his more... extreme tendencies when he brought her to him in his dreams.

He looked around his dreamscape. It was the master suite of west wing of the Manor, more commonly known as the honeymoon suite. This would be their room until she gave him an heir, and then they would move into a different set of rooms that were larger and included a nursery. Draco wished Hermione hadn't woken up, although it was in encouraging knowing that what she felt in the dream was real enough physically to alter her. Thinking of how she had whimpered made his cock twitch. So, she liked it rough? Draco could certainly accommodate her there.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, thinking of how this little bit should have played out. Next time he punished her, Hermione would kneel before him. He would make her pull her nipples until she was whimpering with need. Draco could envision her pouty lips red from the darling little bites he would give her. His witch would know better than to disobey him. When her begging intensified he would make her stop touching herself altogether. She'd have to suffer like he had for all those months, all those years.

Hermione would beg for release and for his cock. Draco was getting close, thinking about Hermione on her knees for him. He'd force her to suck him off, and then just as he was about to cum, he'd pull back and shoot all over her face and throbbing tits. She'd arch her body up to get as much of his seed on her as possible. Thinking of his cum dripping off of her nipples sent Draco over the edge, and he came loudly, waking up alone in his bed.

When he caught his breath, Draco cleaned himself, and rolled over dreamily. Soon. Soon.


	10. Chapter 9

Time passed. Hermione was on her second period since Harry had told her that Draco and his father were traveling. She didn't know how to feel about this. Most days she thought of it not at all, but sometimes, lying in her bed at night after she dreamed of him she would. Tonight was like that. Acara was sprawled across her torso, purring while Hermione stroked her. She was the best hot water bottle ever, and Hermione's cramps were nearly gone now. Hermione's other hand traced the brand at the back of her neck, Draco dominating her thoughts.

Up until three weeks ago, two weeks after he'd left Britain for Colchis, she'd spared him less then half a thought. Now, she dreamed of him every night. It made her think of Harry and Voldemort, Draco giving her these dreams. Or was he just dreaming of her? Most of the time, the dreams were sexual, and twice now she'd woken up in the middle of an orgasm that the dream had brought on. Gods, but the Arse was a Beautiful, Sensual Arse. His hair was a little longer than hers now that she was keeping it cropped around her chin. She wondered if he'd lost all his hair too, and laughed at the thought of him bald.

Other times the dreams were just nice. Once Hermione was laying against Draco on an oversized chaise lounge. She was reading to him while he played with her hair. The dream was sweet and perfect but, as always, she woke up feeling disgusted with herself. The sodding prick had changed laws to buy her, for Circe's sake! She broke her wand because of that!!

Of course, Hermione would never give up this life. She had planned to come here and surrender her wand to train and maybe, maybe one day become an elemental mage. From the first time Malfoy had uttered the word mudblood, and every time after, she dreamed of a place where her magic would simply be accepted. That place certainly wasn't Britain. In some ways, Malfoy was the center of this whole thing from the beginning. Hermione wished she could escape him, but this dragon on her neck prevented that. She stroked her cat and her dragon brand and wondered what would come of all this.

* * *

Draco had the hardest erection of his life. She was playing with the brand, and every touch she made was translated onto his chest. It would be so easy to close his eyes and imagine her here, under his arm, toying with him. He wouldn't wank now though, he'd wait until he saw her in his dreams.

Draco was laying in a posh establishment in southwestern Colorado. Initially, he'd hated the bloody States, and wasn't sure why the Brits had come here in the first place. He'd nearly AK'ed numerous Muggle children as they scampered around him in the disgusting Muggle ruins. Fortunately his father had kept him grounded, and when they disillusioned themselves and went down a path for "employees only", Draco had been glad he'd not committed any Unforgiveables.

While the Muggle ruins were mildly interesting because they were built into the mountainside at such a height, they were pretty disgusting as they were simply mud condos. On the interior of the mountain was the polar opposite. The condos were lavish grottoes. Some were whitewashed while others were dyed with colors from the native plants. Everywhere fine goods were available like Draco had never seen in Diagon Alley. He was almost sad that they wouldn't be staying longer, but Hermione was certainly not here, so it was time to move on. In the morning he and Lucius took a portkey to Mexico City.


	11. Chapter 10

Hermione was at a ball. It was a masked ball. She looked down and saw a mask that looked a little like Acara's face in her hand. She moved to put it on her face, but a pale hand reached out and stopped her. Hermione looked up as Draco swept in behind her.

"No more hiding from me," Draco whispered into her ear before he pulled her earlobe in between his lips. His mouth was hot and wet, and Hermione could feel her skin tingling in response.

"But, good sir, it's a masked ball." Hermione heard the words that were supposed to be coming from her. Preparing for Draco's mind to play with his Hermione-doll, Hermione's own subconscious was working on trying to see as much as possible so she could analyse it in the morning.

"Ah, yes, but you see, it is my masked ball," Draco said against her neck from behind as he slid Hermione's dress off her shoulders. She looked down at his hands and saw that a trumped-up version of her dress from the Yule Ball was being pressed to the floor. Hermione looked up again and saw that the other people in the room were beginning to literally vanish. Hermione was able to look about, and she saw the vaulted cathedral ceilings and royal blue and burgundy parquet floor. "I love dancing with you, Princess. You do feel like a princess, don't you?"

The Hermione-doll replied in the affirmative. Hermione looked to see Draco smiling at her with possessive pride in his eyes. She wished she could do anything more than play along in these bloody dreams, although she had found through reviewing her dreams that it seemed to be increasingly easy for Draco to manipulate them. Hermione wasn't sure who to be angrier at: Draco for doing this in the first place or herself for losing her will to resist so quickly.

The next thing she knew, Hermione, and the doll that she always was in the dreams, were pressed against luxurious burgundy velvet curtains, held in place by Draco, who was also completely starkers.

"Where are you, Princess?" Draco whispered as he cupped her breasts and pressed his lips over her forehead. He was being gentle, trying to lure Hermione into acting consciously inside of his dream. She had noticed this trend a couple nights prior. He wanted her to respond so they could end this wild goose chase. Draco rolled Hermione's nipples, and she shivered.

"I'm right here," the doll replied. This was very different from the sputtering oaths and hexes Hermione's mind wanted to add, but she was impotent here; she could only receive whatever Draco wanted and wait impatiently to wake up.

Draco pressed his hard cock against her belly, and they both shivered, looking into each other's eyes. "Don't you want me to give you this?" He reached down and teased his finger in between her labia until he found her clit. "I know you want to take my cock, Hermione. You hardly even resist anymore."

It was true; without even realising it, Hermione found herself with her arms around Draco's neck and her nose in his neck, just below his Adam’s apple. She was breathing heavily. Her belly moved against his cock, and Hermione knew she was getting wet.

Draco moved them to lay down on what was now a bed with burgundy velvet sheets. Hermione found her hands to be tied above her head. They were clasped together just as they had been around Draco's neck. He was kneeling beside her, one hand jerking his cock while the other fingered her pussy, as now her legs were spread wide. Hermione felt his gaze roll over her body, and she couldn't keep her hips from rolling as his fingers began to thoroughly work into her. Hermione was mostly thrilled; apart from the disgust of not really wanting The Ferret to use her like this, he was doing a splendid job, and Hermione knew that she couldn't sleep through an orgasm. As soon as she came, she'd be out of here. It was getting two birds with one stone.

Her legs spread shamelessly; Hermione closed her eyes, unaware that the doll had as well, as she was feeling the tides of her orgasm building. She also didn't catch it when, as Draco abruptly pulled his fingers out of her pussy as she broached the precipice, her unfulfilled whimper matched that of the doll, almost as if they were the same being.

* * *

Draco watched Hermione's face as he moved the fingers that had just been in her cunt into his mouth. Her mouth opened into the sexiest little pout of disappointment. Her arms were secured over her head, so she had no recourse for what he knew would be a dire need to cum. He wouldn't allow it, though, as she had yet to sleep through an orgasm, and he was nowhere near done with her. Draco had taken a sedative before bed; he wanted to sleep through his orgasm so he could really enjoy Hermione for as long as possible.

"Now, Granger—Hermione—" Draco said as he licked the last of her juices from his hand. He may not know what she tasted like in reality, but the dream said she was good, and the very premise of suckling her juices made him hard. "I can't let you cum because then you'll go away. I'm not going to let you go away anymore, if I can help it." Draco looked down at her chest for a moment and knelt lower to rub his precum on her darkened nipple. Feeling the soft, uneven texture of her nipple on the head of his penis made Draco shiver, and he nearly came right then.

He looked up into her face and saw that she was staring at his cock on her breast. "You want my cock, Hermione?" Draco held her chin and pressed his cock to her lips. "Lick it, Princess." Hermione's little pink tongue slid out and went around his sensitive head a few times. "Yes, Princess, just like that."

Hermione was getting aroused again, in a slightly different way. Draco's breath was getting ragged, and she loved when she could shut The Ferret up. The power of finally seeing him lose his damned smirk was thrilling.

"Your mouth looks so good near my cock, Princess. I can't wait for you to suck it outside of our little dream world. You're going to beg for my cock when we meet again." Draco looked down at Hermione, her eyes closed as she sucked on his cock. Her cheeks caved in just a little bit, and again, Draco started cumming. He pulled out of her mouth and watched as he coated her lips and neck. When looked down at her heaving chest, he let out a shaking breath and wiped his half hard cock on her breasts.

Her knees were bent up, her feet trying to find purchase on the bed. "Look at me," Draco ordered. Hermione turned her eyes to his. She was starting to catch her breath. "Where are you, Hermione? Tell me now." Draco slid his hand over her mound and two fingers stroked her cunt for a moment. Hermione closed her eyes and arched back into his hand. Suddenly, she felt his hand slap her pussy. "I said, 'Look at me.'" She did. He slapped her quim again. "Where are you, Hermione?"

Hermione threw her legs wide open, arching into his hand, which was now spanking her cunt in a steady rhythm. Each time, Hermione's walls would clench, his fingers and palm smarting her quim in the perfect way. She was so close. Draco's gaze was sliding from her face to her quim, which was so juicy for him; Draco knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

Draco looked up into Hermione's face and saw her eyes clear. It was that moment when she broke through whatever was keeping her climax at bay and came. As her body began the beautiful agony of her orgasm, she yelled, "NO!" and woke in her little cottage. Hermione was panting heavily. Out of a newly formed habit, she reached over to a bowl of water with a flannel in it. Wiping herself clean, she moved straight to her dream journal and wrote down as much as she could.


	12. Chapter 11

Draco had woken up when Hermione yelled at him. He had been groggy from the sedative, but he couldn't keep his mind from turning over Hermione's face at the end of the dream. It was as if she'd just come out from under the Imperius curse. Her eyes shone like they had when she'd smacked him in third year. Had their subconsciouses connected? It was an acceptable consolation to her sudden departure.

That was days ago now. They had left the states and moved south to continue their search. The most amazing thing for Draco was how much he loved Mexico City! It was sort of like Colorado, but more Spanish, and with a denser magical population. Most importantly, that was where he'd gotten the next book.

A gypsy woman in Mexico City had told him this was the book that would bring his mind together with Hermione's completely. From what he had read, he was certain she was correct. It was thin, a couple dozen parchment pages sewn into a blue leather cover. He was through it before night fall, reading and re-reading the spell he would cast before he went to sleep. They had only been in the city for four days when Draco made solid connection with Hermione. He knew, because the dream did not go as he had planned.

* * *

Hermione and Acara were walking through a busy plaza in a city. This was why she was so surprised to be met by Malfoy. Acara was never in the dreams about her and The Ferret. That was how she knew that they were his dreams and not hers. Acara was always in her dreams.

Draco smiled in a soft, genuine way that she only ever saw in his dreams. "Finally."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Hermione moved to push through him, knowing it was her dream so she could do as she pleased. Only, she didn't pass through a Malfoy-shaped vapor, but pressed against his broad muscular chest. "What the –"

Draco was about to wrap his arms around her when Acara growled. They both looked down, and Hermione smiled, stepping away from him slightly.

"We meet again, darling." Draco leaned in to touch her hair. “At last. I know we’re together.”

Hermione pulled her head away, trying to dodge his fingers.

“I know actually here. In my dreams, you always have your hair like it was at Hogwarts, light brown curls down your back. I like this: cropped at the chin and deep chocolate brown. You’re amazingly fetching.”

"Leave me alone." Hermione bobbed away from his hand and sucker punched him in the gut.

"Merlin's balls, Granger," Draco wheezed as he curled over himself. He had been so distracted by actually meeting her that her increased muscle tone and strength had gone completely unnoticed.

Hermione looked at him completely apathetically. She leaned down and scooped up Acara and draped the cat across her strong shoulders. "Go home, Malfoy."

Draco looked up at her. "You haven't liked my gifts?" he grunted, moving to kneel in front of her as his lungs filled again.

"Gifts!" Hermione shouted. "You mean branding me without my knowledge, let alone consent? Or trying to buy me from the ministry as if I'm just an incubator for your seed? Or maybe you mean berating me for six years because of your prejudiced views?"

"I mean the dreams, Princess." He paused to really look her over.

Hermione watched him take her in, the way her face flushed under that nickname and the new image of her body in lavender mage's robes. She certainly wasn't the girl he'd been dreaming of lately; that girl was gone.

When he got to her darkened eyes, he continued, "I could give you books, and jewels, and more orgasms than any woman could want. Tell me you haven't woken up with your tight virgin cunt aching for me. I know I have for you."

Hermione was glad that he'd finished his little monologue that way, because he had otherwise been slightly convincing. As loath as she was to admit it, part of her had enjoyed the dreams. However, another part of her wanted to ask about his virgin cunt.

Instead she just smirked at him and said, "Oh, Malfoy – I hate to burst your bubble, but I haven't been a virgin now for years." Hermione felt an evil delight in watching his face fall as he understood what he was saying. She almost laughed when his face clouded over and his grey eyes promised a violent storm.

"Potter? Or Weasley?" Draco ground out through his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides. Acara began to growl in return.

"Oh no, not Harry or Ron, silly. A nice Muggle boy from my old neighbourhood. We used to play football together. He was very fit." Hermione finally laughed out loud remembering how good it had been after the first couple times. Acara slithered down her arm as she bent over Draco.

He stood up, barely controlling his rage. "You let a Muggle defile you?" He couldn't hide his disgust. "You let some Muggle prick take what was mine?" Draco's nostrils flared and his eyes took on a look of great menace.

"I'm not yours, Malfoy! Go home!" Hermione was unimpressed by his behaviour. Classic Draco. Also, she was certain that she was more powerful than he was now.

Draco couldn't take it anymore. He lunged for her. Hermione didn't even flinch, except when Acara jumped up into Draco's chest, knocking him onto his back. Her jaws slid over Draco's neck, and she held him there, growling lowly.

"Tell me, Draco, if Acara kills you in our dream, will you really die? Do you care to find out?"

"Granger, pl-lease." Draco whispered, unwilling to literally risk his neck by speaking too loudly.

Hermione liked hearing Draco ask nicely. That was certainly a first. She knew that if she yielded now, Draco would become even more relentless, but she couldn't risk a killing in cold blood. Hermione had seen more than enough blood to last her a lifetime. 

"Acara, come." Hermione whispered and knelt down to receive her. Acara slowly pulled off of Draco's neck and backed away, turning to pounce on Hermione and lick her face. That's how Hermione woke up, with her cat licking her face and purring lovingly.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers: Have you read all the dreams? Are sure? Ok... onwards!
> 
> (Also, some of this POV/voicing can't be fixed. My apologies)

It was two nights later before Draco had the courage to reach out to Hermione as they slept again. She didn't know that he was half a day's travel from her now. It was like the night after the law passed for him again. Draco's adrenaline was running fast, like he was flying high and fast on his broom, the snitch just a hair's breadth away.

This time he set his dream to a hillside outside of Colchis before he reached out to her. When she appeared, she was not in her mage's robes, which had clung to her delightfully. This time she was in heavy canvas shorts dyed an olive green, and a linen shirt. She looked a little like a Muggle on safari, but he would not complain about that – her shapely legs were on display. There was one problem, that damned cat was with her. They were sitting on the hillside a little bit away from him, the beast's head in her lap as Hermione pressed her hands into the scruff at the back of the cat's neck.

Draco walked over to Hermione and knelt behind her. "Does puss follow you everywhere, Granger?" he asked with his head beside her left ear. Draco wanted to start out light, knowing he had lost major ground last time when he let his temper go. It had been so long since he'd even really seen his little spitfire, he'd almost forgotten how she was.

"Yes, and unlike with you, she's appreciated." Hermione leaned her body away from him. Well, she tried, but his hand came to her arm and held her gently in place.

Draco fought the smirk off his face as she berated him. And here he'd thought she would give him the cold shoulder. He looked at her smiling. She returned his gaze with a neutral face, and they stayed like this for many moments.

Finally, Hermione lost all patience. "What the bloody fuck are we doing here, Malfoy?" She whipped her arm around and he lost his grip.

Draco's smile broadened, and he lay down on his side casually, as if they had been old friends and lovers all these years. "If I can't hold you in my waking hours, at least I can see you in my dreams." Draco's fingers were itching to twist one of those new dark curls but he held back this time, not convinced that the cat was docile as it seemed.

"So you plan to haunt my dreams until we die?" Hermione eyed him and sighed exasperatedly.

"No. Soon you'll be in my arms." Draco rolled to his back, missing how Hermione's jaw clenched and her teeth began grinding. In the dream he was wearing a blood red linen tunic, cut close to his torso, and white trousers embroidered in the same red as his shirt. It was the height of fashion for wizards in Mexico City, and, as Hermione watched him relax carelessly, she berated herself for seeing him as attractive at all.

She knew this was his doing – Hermione had never even considered Draco Malfoy to be anything but a ferret-boy; he certainly was not a man she might consider snogging. Then, Draco started toying around in her subconscious. He was attractive. He was broad-shouldered and thin-hipped. He was deliciously tall, especially compared to the mages she'd been living with for nine months. Worst of all, the dreams where he'd made love to her had been exquisite.

Hermione needed out of this dream. Unfortunately, the landscape was so peacefully constructed, and Draco was doing nothing to make her uncomfortable really, so she had nothing to jar her out of it. If it hadn't been set in the mid-afternoon, she could have easily dozed off. Not that she would doze off in the presence of Malfoy, who knew what he would try to do then. "Where is this?"

"Still with the questions, Granger?" Malfoy smirked at her arrogantly, even though he looked like he was about to doze off himself. "Let's make a deal – I'll answer your questions, if you'll answer mine. You already owe me two."

"I'm not making any deals with you," Hermione sai and followed it with a clicking noise. The cat got up and stretched, as did Hermione, and then she bent down and picked the beast up to carry her on her shoulders. Hermione knew that this was as much her dream as it was his. She didn't have to stay around.

Hermione had finally gotten to where she couldn't sense Draco anymore when he materialised next to her, walking in time. She was irritated by his continued presence, but felt good that something was finally happening.

"Which dream did you like best, Hermione?" Draco asked with an intense gaze on her.

"Don't call me that." Hermione looked away from him. She would be as little a party to this as possible.

"It's your name, what else am I to call you?" Draco reached down and grabbed her palm. He held it softly and stroked her smooth flesh with his thumb.

"You have no right to call me that." Hermione was about to turn and confront him when Acara's paw swept out and slapped Draco upside his skull. The move tossed his hair into his eyes, his jaw clacked, and his step stuttered. Hermione couldn't contain herself and she laughed, loudly at first, and then chuckled. Draco had dropped her hand upon the assault and now she walked with her hands held together in front of her. She didn't even try to wipe the smile off her face.

Draco scowled. He was really liking that beast less and less. He would not be goaded. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys were always in control of the situation. He pressed on, saying, "I think it was that time on the beach."

Hermione remembered that dream vividly, and blushed scarlet over her tan. Annoyed with herself, she growled low in her throat. That dream was the second time she had woken up to an orgasm. Oh, how she hated him! Feeling her anger grow, she knew it was the way out of the dream, so she'd play along. "There were no times, Malfoy. This whole mess is part of your own delusional mind."

"Oh, my darling Granger, that's where you're wrong. Well... maybe it was less cooperative before, when we were students, but now – Now we when we are together in these dreams, it's us. The subconscious doesn't lie, Granger."

Hermione's mind raged, and finally, her feet halted. The sodding prick had stalked her for four months, and he's calling it less cooperative. Also, the subconscious lies all the time, that's why dreams can be so ridiculous. However, she didn't voice these points, she just stopped and turned to look at him, making a clicking noise that caused Acara to slither down her body and coil around her legs.

"Malfoy. I'm out of your league." She poked his chest with her finger. "You come near me, near my new home, and your life as you know it will be over."

Draco grabbed her finger and pulled her against his body. "Why do you fight it Granger? I can give you everything you want if you'll just give in."

"I already have everything I want and it certainly doesn't include you!" Hermione couldn't move her legs because she didn't want to kick Acara who was pinned between her and Draco. Hermione could feel the magic welling up in side of her; she’d be out of this soon. She sighed heavily and leaned into Draco's body, momentarily giving in as he pressed his finger through her hair and down to where her brand was, pulling their lips together. Just before they touched though, Hermione sent a wave of fire through her skin.

She and Draco both screamed in their sleep, not unlike when she had broken her wand. For Hermione, it was just a vocal release of her magic, even though her skin radiated heat, especially on the brand. When she woke, Acara was purring happily on Hermione's chest.

Meanwhile, in a city a little north of where Hermione lay resting, Draco had roused his father with his cries, the dragon on his chest burning hot like Fiendfyre on his skin. Neither would get much sleep after, as they called in the local healer who could only offer the strongest cooling balm and prescribed bed rest. Draco would be convalescing for another week.


End file.
